Renewed
by IrishCelebration
Summary: It's the day after the final battle. Even though some survived, did they manage to make it out alright? Ron goes to check on Hermione and gets more than he bargained for. RWHG, some smut.


Disclaimer: I don't own these characters!

Hermione stood up straight and looked in the mirror. Dizzy, she squinted with effort to focus on the image in front of her. She let the water she had just splashed on her face run down her neck, ignoring the plush towel on the counter. The streaks of liquid broke through the dirt and sweat caked on her cheeks, and Hermione thought she couldn't have looked more like a warrior. Small scrapes and cuts adorned her cheeks, her neck, and her forehead, while beads of dried blood poked out of them. She felt aches throughout her body and shrugged her shoulders, reminding herself of the pain.  
The pain she experienced could never match the pain others had gone through. Hell, she survived, and with no long-term physical ailments. But she felt like she had been through the end of the world. She examined her body for the first time since the fighting. Her clothes were burned and torn, coated in dirt and dust. Her nails were broken and bleeding, she guessed she had a jammed finger. She didn't even know the damage under her clothes.  
Eyes prickling with tears, Hermione slowly peeled off her jacket and tank top, and the garments almost creaking with the excessive movement. She couldn't remember the last time she had changed outfits. With a breath of relief after the struggle, Hermione was free to assess her injuries. There was slight bruising near her ribs, no broken bones. A gash from a curse snaked up her torso, but the wound wasn't deep and Hermione knew from her Mediwitch training the summer after sixth year that it would heal with little scarring.  
Moving lower, Hermione kicked off her slacks, and the picture was similar. Bruising near the knees and shins, but no open cuts seemed serious. Muscle aches were probably to blame for the slight jelly in her legs, but that's what happens when you run and fight for days. She looked back to the mirror. She would heal, and she would be fine. Even the "Mudblood" etched along her forearm had a good chance of fading.  
Naked and satisfied with her assessment, Hermione splashed more water on her face, worsening the streaked look of skin and dirt. She felt the need to scrub every inch of her body, removing the dirt and sweat and blood. She slowly turned in the tiled bathroom, turned the knob on the shower and stepped in before the water had a chance to warm. The ice water sent a shock throughout her system and she gasped as it made its way down.  
The water was the color of dirt as it pooled around the drain, washing off the remnants of the War from her skin and hair. Physically she was renewed, clean from the War's injuries. Emotionally…  
She thought to the previous night. She remembered leaving her wand in the Great Hall as she went to collect bodies. She was forced to roll Tonks onto a blanket and drag her back to lie amongst the dead. She remembered resting Tonks next to Lupin, the heartbreak of a love cut short plain in front of her. When she turned around, she saw Fred, eyes lifeless for the first time. She saw Molly grieve for her son, George mourn for his lost half, Ron and Ginny cry for an older brother.  
Hermione saw Colin Creevey, so small and broken lying next to his much older peers. Her heart ached for every one of them. Wizards rejoiced at the death of Voldemort all over the country and Hermione could only think about the death that resulted, the pain, and the loss.  
When Hermione came back to the present she found herself on the shower floor. The water matted her hair to her face, and Hermione tilted her face towards the source as it became warm. She ran her hands over her hair, gulping some of the water as it passed her mouth, feeling tired and hungry and thirsty all at once. She rested her head against the shower wall, brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She closed her eyes and sat for minutes or hours; and she couldn't distinguish the warm water on her face as from the shower or her tears.

Ron stumbled through the front door of Hermione's flat. His voice was raw; his eyes were red and tired. He had spent time with Harry all morning, making sure he was doing well. Ron knew Harry felt relief for the end of the War, but with the relief there was guilt for the loss of life. It was inevitable as it was pointless, but he couldn't convey that to Harry. The afternoon was spent with his family, consoling his mum and dad, crying with his siblings, and making arrangements. Molly couldn't bear the thought of planning a funeral for one of her children, so Ron and Arthur started the process.  
Hermione was last on Ron's list to visit. She seemed the most emotionally stable, and Ron had hoped to discuss where they left off after the War's end. They shared their first kiss, and then the fighting erased the memory. What were they, if anything? He hoped the kiss wasn't a moment of desperation in the face of death. Ron was mad about this woman, and he wanted to know where they stood.  
Ron placed the key Hermione had given him on the kitchen counter and listened for any indication that she was in her flat, but he found none. The place was spotless as a result of Hermione moving in that morning (with the help of a bewitching charm on the landlord), and Ron listened harder, feeling a sense of dread creep up on him as the silence answered him. He figured she'd be busy doing something—she always was busy with some task or errand. He swept the room with his eyes and saw a pair of dirty shoes strewn in the living room. Probably a good sign, he thought. Maybe she was sleeping.  
He headed towards the hallway that led to her bedroom. The flat was small and comfortable for one, and Ron thought it was perfect for Hermione's personality: cozy, warm, and humble. He reached her room and found the door closed. He pushed his ear to the heavy oak and listened for any signs of movement, but was greeted with silence again. He thought about leaving and returning later, but he wanted to make sure she was OK first. Placing a hand on the cool bronze handle, he twisted it before pushing it open, avoiding any sound it could make. His eyes swept the room once and he furrowed his brow.  
The bed was perfectly made, with crisp sheets and pillows adorning the large mattress. Frowning, Ron turned to leave once and for all when he heard water running. His eyes instinctively moved toward the master bathroom, where he saw the door pressed shut, the light spilling out from under it. He relaxed without knowing he had been holding a breath since he arrived. He figured Hermione would be quick with her shower, so he sat on the corner of her bed and decided to wait. Five minutes passed, then ten. Before Ron knew it he was lying on the bed, his eyes grew heavy, and he fell asleep.

Hermione knew she had to get out of the shower when she felt her whole body pruning. The water had reached scalding temperatures, and Hermione's skin had turned a flush pink. Her legs ached as she pushed herself off the shower floor, and she turned the shower knob to icy and felt refreshed as the cold water blasted her before turning the water off altogether. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a blue bath towel off the floor and wrapped it around her. She wiped the steam off the mirror and examined her reflection again. Could be worse, she thought wryly. As Hermione made a move to redress, she realized she hadn't brought a fresh set of clothes with her.  
Cursing, Hermione quickly moved to her bedroom to grab a clean outfit, and she immediately regretted leaving the bathroom as the non-steamy air hit her towel-clad body. She audibly swore as goosebumps formed over her skin, and half a second later she screamed as she realized someone was in her room, on her bed.

Ron hadn't planned on napping, but he was exhausted and Hermione was taking ages in the shower. He dozed off without realizing it, and he didn't know how long he had been asleep when he was woken up by a scream. The War had him on high alert, and he immediately jumped up out of his slumber, ready to act. When Ron's eyes found the source of the scream, he froze.  
He couldn't even count the number of times he had pictured Hermione naked or near naked, all of his fantasies included her in some naughty situation, always screaming his name…  
Ron broke out of his spell to find Hermione still in front of him, dripping and shocked. Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide. Ron couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked and he ached to run his hands across her skin. She made some effort to cover herself and Ron finally looked away, embarrassed by his staring.  
"Hey, I'm sorry…" he tried weakly.  
She moved past him and opened a drawer from her dresser, pulled out some clothes, but stopped as she realized she couldn't change in front of him. She took a breath and words began spilling out.  
"I didn't know you were going to be here, how did you get in?"  
Ron couldn't meet her eyes when he looked back at her. "You gave me a key when you signed the lease, remember?"  
Hermione looked up, trying to recall the memory. "Oh."  
The redhead coughed at the complete awkwardness of their conversation. "So…how are you?"  
She blushed at her current state and shrugged. "I'm ok. How are you? How's your family?"  
Ron cast his eyes down, remembering his family, now missing one member. "We're holding up alright, we just started making arrangements."  
Hermione nodded, memories of a lifeless Fred flooding her thoughts. She quickly pushed the image away. "Have you talked to Harry?"  
"Yeah. Still blaming himself for everything."  
"I knew he would."  
They both stood in silence for a few seconds, unable to think of anything to talk about.  
Ron coughed. "Well, I was just checking up on you, too. I wanted to make sure you were OK. I'm sorry I stopped by without letting you know first."  
He made a move to leave and an ache in Hermione's chest desperately rose as she watched him go. "Wait."  
He stopped and turned toward her, looking her in the eyes for the first time since he had arrived. "Yeah?"  
Hermione had no idea what to say. She was dripping and in a towel and she felt the weight of her sadness crash on her all at once. "Don't go."  
His face softened and he took a step closer to her. "OK."  
As if she couldn't hold it any longer, a sob escaped her lips and Ron immediately closed the gap between them, enveloping her in his arms. "Shhh. It's ok Mione, shhhh."  
She hiccupped. "I'm sorry," she whispered.  
Ron felt his chest tighten as he heard her cry. Everyone had a point where they unraveled. Ron had watched Harry's undoing that morning; the inevitable sadness and grief that catches up to you after a traumatic experience. Ron had spent the night before crying all night, punching walls and tearing apart his bedroom in the Burrow. His unraveling had been particularly messy. Hermione made a choking sound as she attempted to catch her breath and Ron eased up on his hold on her.  
"I'm not going anywhere Mione," he said, trying to console her, "I've got you."  
She wiped her eyes and sniffed when she realized she was still only in a towel. She looked down again in embarrassment and spoke in a steadier voice. "I'm sorry, I must be a sight."  
Ron moved without thinking, gently taking her chin in his hands. She looked up into his eyes and he spoke in a firm, but soft voice. "You're perfect."  
Time seemed to stop they realized they had crossed a barrier. Anything that would happen now, they knew, would not be because they were afraid of death, of losing each other. They had all the time in the world now; anything that happened would be because they loved each other.  
They both understood.  
Ron moved first, pulling her face up to his. Their first kiss was rushed and in the moment, and he wanted to make it count this time. He slowly lowered his lips to hers, tasting her, a mixture of honey and caramel.  
Hermione responded in kind, moving her lips against his, electricity running through her body. Ron moaned into her mouth and he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her and moving towards her bed. Her skin was still wet and it soaked through Ron's shirt, but he didn't care. He reached the edge of the bed and laid her down on it, and she bit her lip in anticipation as he unbuttoned his damp shirt. He discarded the garment and climbed over her small body, placing his hands on either side of her face. Their lips met again, and Ron slipped his tongue into her mouth, exploring every inch of it.  
Hermione moaned softly as Ron moved his mouth to her neck, biting the flesh there gently. She felt intoxicated as his hands moved down her shoulders, feeling the edge of the towel. She had no experience with this, no idea what she was doing. Ron continued kissing her neck, her collarbone, her throat, and suddenly Hermione blinked in fear. "Ron?"  
"Hm?" He murmured against her throat.  
"I don't know…"  
He stopped and pulled away, searching her eyes with his. "What is it? Is this too fast? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"  
Hermione blushed. "No, no. I just…don't know…"  
"Don't know what?"  
"How…or what..."  
Ron looked puzzled as he tried to determine what she wanted. Hermione almost groaned as she tried to get the words came out. "Ron, I've never done this."  
Ron finally understood and his eyes widened. He knew she had been with Viktor for a while, but he never knew how far it had gone. He hadn't wanted to know. Ron moved to get off her before it went any further, and she stopped him by pulling him in for another kiss.  
"Show me what to do."  
Another moan escaped his lips at her words. She was giving herself to him. He had loved her for years, and she was letting him have her. He felt like he could burst with joy until he realized that he also didn't know what to do. "Hermione," he said as he broke the kiss. "I can try, but I've never done this, either."  
A slow smile grew on Hermione. She assumed he had been with Lavender, but he hadn't. They were going to be each other's firsts.  
"Why are you smiling?" He asked as he studied her face.  
She giggled. "Probably for the same reason you are."  
He kissed her again and this time it was filled with passion and unquestioned love. He wanted her to know, once and for all. "I love you," he whispered before he could stop himself.  
Hermione closed her eyes as she let it sink in. She had waited years to hear those words, and she basked in them. "I love you, too."  
They knew they didn't need to speak anymore. Their lips met another time and Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in as close as possible. She raked her fingers down his bare back, finally appreciating his skin on hers. Ron broke the kiss and lifted her to move her further up the bed, and he moved to remove his belt as he knelt near her feet. "Are you sure?"  
She nodded and cast her eyes down to watch his movements, a sudden look of desire in her eyes. Ron removed his trousers and boxers at the same time, fumbling with removing them over his feet. He kicked them off the bed and realized he was naked. He searched Hermione's face for a reaction.  
Hermione's eyes were wide, and although she had nothing to compare it to, she knew he was a good size. He moved over her and reached for her towel, pulling the fabric down. He threw it on the floor with his clothes. As he examined her body, he got even harder. It was exactly like he imagined, she was slender and had soft curves, and she was absolutely perfect. Ron moved a rough hand over one of her breasts, and she whimpered at the touch. She felt a liquid heat travel down her body, and she knew he was turning her on. His warm mouth replaced his hand, and Hermione arched her back and moaned loudly at the sensation. His other hand grabbed her free breast, and she rewarded him with another moan. His mouth moved lower and he dragged his hand down her flat stomach, resting it at her center. Gently moving her legs apart, Ron stroked the sensitive skin of her folds and inserted a finger into her core. She was slick and tight, and writhed against his hand as he worked her.  
Hermione thought she would die of happiness at the sensation. It was a foreign, if not wonderful feeling to have someone else be this intimately connected to her. He moved his hand against her for another minute before she felt a tugging sensation at her navel. She had masturbated before; she knew she was close to release. Hermione tightened the muscles in her already aching legs, begging him to push her over the edge. He moved his thumb over her clit, and Hermione spasmed as her orgasm hit her. She moaned and grabbed the sheets, twisting them as she came down from her high.  
Ron chuckled as he pulled his finger out, proud of the reaction he elicited from the usually proper witch. Hermione lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at him, and he rose back on top of her, kissing her deeply. "Sorry," he said into the kiss, "you're just so sexy."  
She blushed and ran her hands over his chest, down his stomach, and over his hips. Out of curiosity, she ran a hand over his member, which was solid and pulsing. "Hermione," he moaned, and she needed to be consumed by him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and positioned herself under him.  
"Please, Ron."  
He searched her eyes for any hesitation and when he found none, he whispered a contraceptive spell, steadied himself over her, and slowly pushed himself into her. She was almost impenetrable, and her eyes screwed shut at the intrusion. He moved slow and tried to be gentle, but he was losing his self control.  
"Just go," she whispered.  
She took a deep breath, and he pushed himself in with one stroke. He felt her break, and she cried out in pain, twisting her hands in his red hair. He froze as he felt her walls around him, the sensation almost too much for him.  
Hermione's breaths were hitched, her eyes were screwed shut.  
"Breathe, love," he urged, not wanting her to be in pain.  
Hermione did as he said, filling her lungs with air. The pain ebbed after a minute and suddenly she was uncomfortable with the feeling. "Move."  
He slowly slid out and pushed back in, and Hermione breathed through the sensation, feeling better each time. As he quickened his pace, she forgot about the pain and felt the pull at her navel again. She moved against his body and he groaned at her participation. Their movements were awkward and somewhat out of sync, but it couldn't have felt more right.  
He knew he was almost over the edge after another minute of their actions, and he wanted to take her with him. He pushed his finger on her clit again, and as she was already sensitive from her first orgasm, she quivered almost immediately and lost control, another wave hitting her again. As her walls tightened around him, he lost it, spilling into her, moaning her name the whole way down.  
Ron collapsed on her small frame, kissing her face all over. It was just how he thought it would be. "I love you Hermione."  
"I love you Ronald."  
He moved off of her, and as they lay next to each other, she felt whole, complete, and renewed.

Fin

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